The Undesirable Case
by Brandolyn
Summary: When Sherlock's wife's health starts deteriorating, Sherlock is faced with a case he cannot solve: What's happening to her? He desperately wants to solve the case, but he'll need best friend Dr. John Watson's medical assistance to help him one more time. *A sequel to "The Pieces of Sherlock's Heart"
1. Prologue- The Holmes Turner House

It didn't take a genius to see that Sherlock Holmes was not your run of the mill ordinary man. Just ask Dr. John Watson; best friend to Sherlock Holmes, and as he'd been told on several occasion by the detective himself, a man of "ordinary" intelligence. Even Sherlock's best friend wouldn't hesitate to admit that Sherlock is, to put it delicately; odd. And when Sherlock started to court a pretty young woman by the name of Brianna Turner, the comments that flew around surrounding the pair were much stronger than "odd."

Sherlock had a number of enemies, but it was his acquaintances that gave him the most grief about his relationship with Brianna. No one could believe that Sherlock was actually interested in a woman and John was no exception. He spent many sleepless nights worrying that Sherlock was stringing on the poor girl, and that Brianna would end up with her heart broken just because Sherlock was being, well, Sherlock.

Mary, John's wife, was their biggest supporter. She calmed John when he worried too much and she stopped her babbling friends when their dinner topics spread to relationship gossip. Brianna and Sherlock's relationship was admittedly unorthodox, but it was theirs and nobody else's. As the months rolled on and Brianna and Sherlock were still happily enjoying each other's company John started to get used to the idea that they might actually be a good fit for each other. He started to notice the way their personalities resembled and complimented each other. For example: while Sherlock's mind was always perceiving and educing, making him easily distracted or seclude himself from the world, Brianna would get inspired by something and stop talking mid sentence so that she could draw a picture. She would stop her story, draw for anywhere between 30 seconds to a few hours, and resume her story when the drawing was done, regardless of whether there was anyone else still around to hear her. Brianna was empathetic and sweet, while Sherlock was cold and logical. She was artistic and energetic compared to Sherlock's quieter, calculating and scientific personality.

In many respects they were polar opposites: the blonde and the brunette, the artist and the detective, the extrovert and the introvert, but the more time he spent with the pair, the more John realized they had a lot in common. They were determined, stubborn, prone to loud outbursts, easily distracted, talented, observant and above all else, clever. Sherlock was cleverer than Brianna, but she challenged him unlike anyone he had met before.

Brianna kept life at 221B Baker Street interesting. After Sherlock had asked her to move in, she took over John's old room and converted it to her studio. According to Mrs. Hudson, it was hard to tell who was ever home. Sherlock's schedule was always erratic, but Brianna's was steadily 8-4 weekdays. There were days when she thought no one was home; 221B was quiet, but would come up to find that Brianna had knit scarves for all of the furniture, or she would open the door to find Brianna lying upside down on the couch, legs up against the wall, sketchbook in hand trying to draw a picture of the deer on the wall.

Oppositely, there were days when she couldn't tell how many people were home. Some days one of them would make enough noise for two and when both Sherlock and Brianna were both home the house was either eerily quiet, or boisterous. Despite it being difficult to tell who was home, Mrs. Hudson adjusted quite quickly to having Brianna around all the time. The ladies spend much of their time cooking together, watching bad shows on the telly or knitting. Brianna loves to knit and is often wearing some piece of knitwear she made herself. Mrs. Hudson doesn't have the same aptitude for knitting as Brianna and often busies herself tidying the apartment while Brianna quietly knits the hours away waiting for Sherlock to come home from his latest case. The ladies gossip and trade recipes, and peer out the windows studying their neighbours' affairs. But then there are days when Brianna has been alone too long, and she isn't quite so 'domestic'.

Mrs. Hudson had been used to having to deal with Sherlock's temper tantrums and mood swings, his messy housekeeping, bloody specimens and his violent outbursts, but she was surprised to find out that despite Brianna's sweet demeanor, Brianna had a wicked temper too which meant that Mrs. Hudson was sometimes out matched by Brianna's quirks as well. Although they complimented Sherlock's very well, the pair were sometimes too much for the old woman. That meant that life at 221B Baker street was anything but normal, but then again, that's how Sherlock and Brianna liked it.


	2. Chapter 1- Visiting the Watsons

A crisp fall wind blew bright orange leaves around Brianna's feet as she traipsed up the street to Mary and John Watson's home. She pulled up the warm neck of her short brown leather jacket against the wind and straightened her red knit hat on her head. Shoving her hands deep into her pockets Brianna couldn't help but think longingly of the cup of hot tea waiting for her inside. Turning up the steps to the house Brianna was greeted by a friendly face. In the window of the Watson residence Dodge, the couple's brown and white English Spaniel was standing watching her excitedly. She waived to the dog and watched as he disappeared from sight. Through the large window she could see John standing in front of a bookshelf running his hands over a series of books. Even through the window he looked upset.

She knocked on the front door.

Mary, followed immediately by Dodge, greeted her at the door. Mary ushered Brianna into the front hall out of the chilly Autumn air. The house was warm; a small fire was crackling away in the drawing room, and smelled of gingerbread. Brianna thought it was a bit early for gingerbread cookies, the trees still had some leaves on them.

"Come in, come in!" Mary worried over her guest. "You look frozen. The tea is ready and I just finished making a tray of ginger cookies. They're cooling in the kitchen."

"Don't fuss. I'm really not very cold." Brianna assured her as she passed over her jacket and hat to be put away. She glanced quickly at her reflection in the mirror. She looked cold. Her short white blonde hair was tousled from being in a hat, and her cheeks and nose were a nice bright pink. She sighed, "Well,I don't feel that cold."

"That's because you're numb." John teased from the kitchen. Brianna laughed and bent down to say an enthusiastic "Hello" to Dodge who was waiting patiently beside Mary, then followed the hostess into the drawing room. With its fireplace, wallpapered walls adorned with photos of John, Mary and Dodge, shelves packed full of books and couches covered in knit afghans, the drawing room was Brianna's favourite room in the Watson house. She took her usual seat in the long couch facing the doorway and started to pour the tea while Mary popped into the kitchen to fetch the cookies.

"Brianna, have you heard any word from Sherlock?" Mary called from the kitchen.

"Yes, this morning he said he'd be here by half past three." Brianna called back.

John appeared in the doorway looking up at the clock on the wall. "It's already four o'clock."

Brianna nodded, "It is." She tilted the tea pot toward John's cup; a plain white cup with a blue band around the lip. A gift; Brianna couldn't remember if it was from Mary or from his sister Harry, but it was precious to John and he used it every day. He nodded his head and took a seat on the couch opposite her. Dodge returned to his post at the window, a silent lookout for their remaining visitor.

"He's not due for a while Dodge, relax." John called. The dog's short tail wagged happily but he did not turn from the window.

Mary came in carrying a plate of cookies in one hand and a plate of assorted muffins and jams in the other. Brianna and John jumped to their feet exclaiming that they should have come to help her carry the plates. Mary shook her head and begged them to take their seats again.

They ate mostly in silence, perfectly happy just to be around each other. Halfway through her tea Mary prattled on about a fellow at work who had brought in a litter of stray kittens. By the noises she made while telling the story she was quite taken with them. She kept bringing up a cat named Dexter; a tiny brown tabby, and by the look on John's face he'd heard quite enough about this cat. John preferred the company of dogs; he doesn't have the patience for the fickle mindedness of cats.

Trying to distance herself from the conversation before Mary tried to send her and Sherlock home with a cat, Brianna set her sights around the room once more. The newest additions to the room were sitting on the mantle; a framed picture of Brianna and Sherlock, and the framed charcoal drawing of John and Mary that Brianna had given them on the first day they met. She felt honoured that her silly little sketch was such a prized possession of theirs, and the picture was one of her favourites; Sherlock was dressed in a tight black tux, looking down at Brianna laughing as she; dressed in a short white gown, realized there was a drawing pencil behind her ear.

She turned away from the happy memory; she winced slightly as her head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache. Not again, she thought and forced her eyes to focus. John noticed, but remained silent. Her gaze landed on the bookshelf she had seen John staring at through the front window. The bookcase and the books upon it had been in that room since before Brianna had met the Watsons, but she had never bothered to look at them.

"What's that collection of books?" She asked.

"Where?"

"Second shelf." Brianna nodded toward the only books that didn't have lettering on the spine. They were leather bound and warn. Mary sipped at her tea silently looking to her husband.

"Nothing really. Old notes, bits of writing, I should have tossed them ages ago."

"Don't you dare!" Mary sounded hurt. "Give yourself more credit… _Bits of writing…_" she mumbled,

"John, that's some of your best work." Mary continued. Brianna stood and walked over to the bookcase.

"Brianna, please don't." John begged. She turned respectfully.

"What did you write about?"

John remained silent.

"Sherlock." Mary chimed in.

"Like your blogs?" She asked excitedly. Brianna loved John's writing.

"He turned them into full novels years ago." As Mary bragged Brianna's eye got wider with delight.

"Really?"

"Both of you stop it. They're just old journals, nothing special. Leave them alone."

Brianna moved over to John's chair and put a hand on his shoulder. "I won't read anything without your permission, but I want you to know that I would love to read some more of your work." A tremor ran up her arm and made the tea cup rattle in the saucer she held.

"You alright?" John asked. This was not the first tremor or spasm he had witnessed from her lately. She smiled at him and nodded as usual. "Want to lie down?"

"No, no. I'm quite alright thanks." She waved off his offer, but was passed out on the couch an hour later.


	3. Chapter 2- Failing Health

Sherlock was walking down the steps away from the latest crime scene Lestrade had asked him to visit, when his phone beeped. He drew it from his jacket pocket. It was a text from John.

You should come get Bree. She's passed out on the couch.

-J

Again?

-SH

Sherlock wrote back. He looked at the time on his phone; not even half past six. It was a bit early for her to be falling asleep.

Yeah.

-J

Sherlock sighed and waived down the nearest cab.

Be there in ten.

-SH

The moment the cab pulled up in front of the Watson residence, Sherlock gave the cabbie his fare and leapt out of the car saying, "Wait here." In a few bounding steps he had reached the front door; John had seen the cab arrive and was holding the door open for him. He swept through the door, down the hall and stopped just outside of the drawing room.

Brianna was asleep, awkwardly sitting up on the couch, her head fallen to one side with a crocheted blanket draped over her. She looked pale and uncomfortable. Dodge lay across her feet. He looked up at Sherlock as he approached the couch and kneeled next to Brianna. Sherlock shook her gently.

"Brianna, it's time to go."

Mary clung to John as they watched from the hallway. This was the fourth time in two weeks that she had fallen asleep during a visit, and at half passed six this was the earliest she had passed out. Normally a sleepy guest isn't flattering but shouldn't be much of an alarm but Brianna had been complaining of headaches and blurry vision for a while, and John had been suggesting that she visit him at St. Bart's to have some tests done. But tonight, as she groggily sat up while Mary helped her to adjust her hat and scarf and Sherlock wrapped a strong arm around her waist to lead her from the house, John stayed silent. He and Mary waived from the house, as the cab took off and watched it until it was out of sight.

Brianna sat on the bench seat with her eyes shut tight, holding the bridge of her nose with one hand and massaging the right side of her temple with the other. From his seat beside her Sherlock watched her cautiously.

"Long day?" Sherlock asked as Brianna let go of her head and leaned against him closing her eyes again. She shook her head.

"It's Saturday. I don't work weekends." She mumbled sleepily. Sherlock put an arm around her protectively and held all the way to Baker Street while she slept.

With his free hand he pulled out his phone and wrote out a short text.

Bart's 8 A.M

-SH

Despite her exhaustion Brianna had a terrible night's sleep. Painful electric shocks like static electricity off of a door handle on a dry day, shook through her body. They made her twitch so badly that she woke Sherlock; or rather made him abandon the façade of sleeping and turn to her concerned. The headache and electric shocks were worse than they had been. Brianna had relinquished her hold on her normal cheery disposition and instead was curled up in Sherlock's arms letting him hold her tight.

"Sherlock," Brianna whispered. Her voice was uncharacteristically fragile. "I'm scared."

Sherlock didn't say anything but he clung to her tighter as her body shuddered again and she let out a small whimper. He held her so close that she couldn't move, hoping that if her body couldn't twitch, it might not hurt her as much.

Brianna and Sherlock sat in painful silence for another hour before Brianna finally agreed to let Sherlock take her to the Hospital.

"John's awake. He'll meet us there." Said Sherlock checking his phone messages as Brianna clambered into a cab in her flannel pyjamas, and fuzzy blue dressing gown. Sherlock followed her in his long coat pulled over a tight navy t-shirt and loose fitting grey sweat pants; it was the sloppiest he'd dressed in public in the whole of his adult life and he didn't care. He wanted to know what was wrong with his wife, and he wanted it fixed. Immediately.

Just like he promised, John was waiting at the Emergency entrance to St. Bart's with a wheelchair and a blanket. The Doctor hid a yawn behind the blanket as Sherlock helped Brianna into the chair and John wrapped her in the blanket. John placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder as the taller man looked at him with silent gratitude. John squeezed. _Anytime_, it meant.

"Alright Bree, don't you worry, we'll get you sorted." John pushed her wheelchair through the automatic doors of the Emergency room and watched as Sherlock froze for the briefest of moments, remembering the last time he had visited St. Bart's Emergency after Brianna had been hit by a car. John stopped the wheelchair just inside the doors and watched as Brianna silently held out a hand to him.

"We come here too often." He said.

"You're telling me." She agreed.

Having John as their escort, made the process of registering and getting a room immediate. The nurses paid Brianna special attention; a few even remembered her from her last visit and asked how she had healed up. One of the nurses who had cared for her after the car accident remembered she had poor circulation and was always cold. She threw a blanket in the microwave for a few moments and brought it over, nice and warm as if it were fresh from the dryer. Swathed in a warm blanket; still in her wheel chair, Brianna finally fell asleep. They had been in Brianna's room less than ten minutes when John came in and had to take her away for a series of tests.

"What tests?" Sherlock asked.

"MRI, CT Scan, anything I can get my hands on." John replied as Brianna started to stir toward consciousness again. "You cannot come." John wheeled Brianna into the hall and turned back. "Are you going to cause any trouble?"

"Nope." Sherlock answered quickly.

"You are, aren't you?" John stomped his foot. Sherlock was standing still, but evidently restraining himself from pacing circles around the small room. The Doctor sighed. "The code to the Medical Library is '5792' but Sherlock if you go down there, whatever you find will be volumes worse than what's actually wrong. Stay here, sleep and don't open those books."

"I can't do that."

"I know," said John as he left Sherlock alone in the Hospital room looking dishevelled and lost.


End file.
